


Magnum Opus

by soda_coded



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Anal Sex, Extended Metaphors, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 12:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soda_coded/pseuds/soda_coded
Summary: Sebastian imposes a lesson.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Magnum Opus

**Author's Note:**

> a soul, bared or buried

When beginning a masterpiece, the experienced first prepare their canvas. Clean and scrape and bleach the skin.

Sebastian begins well before dawn. Yeast takes time to become active, dough takes time to rise. Besides, this morning the agenda is violin lessons… bocchan hates violin lessons. The way his face gets tighter and tighter with every screeching stroke…! Ah, perfection. For the smell of a soul so sweet, his master deserves only the best in return.

Scones cook quickly on the outside, but slowly inside. A delicate balance. The task requires heat and patience, fine judgement and a careful eye. Sebastian spends his time polishing the silver.

One of the things he has learned to rely on; there is always more silver to polish.

The scones are cooling as he leaves to wake him. The sun has appeared, but only just, a maiden's first blush dusting the sky. It brushes the sleepy creases of his master's face in a pretty light.

"Bocchan." Sebastian says but Ciel sleeps on, undisturbed by demons and revenge. His lashes, a forest of long, delicate wishes, rest smushed on his scrunched cheeks. Adorable, truly.

Sebastian rips the curtains back, dozens of small silver rings he'd polished last week but which probably need touching up, rattle violently. The sun invades his room, and his master stirs, stretching cutely, a kitten on the garden path.

"Ugh, why do you do tha-"

"Good morning, bocchan."

"Good morning." Ciel answers and he's frowning and squinting into the sun's eternal smile, irritation in every line of his body. It makes Sebastian smile, his eyes closing merrily as he performs his first obeisance of the day and bows.

Heels together, neck straight, bend at the waist. Remember your place.

"Today your schedule is relatively light." He tells him as he steps forward, filthy demon hands already bound away behind pressed, white silk. It makes the buttons a challenge, but a fun one. He is sure of his steps in this dance. Ciel is yawning, tiny fangs and flashing pink tongue. "I have prepared a breakfast of lemon and lavender scones with black currant jam. For this mornings tea-"

"Piss off, Sebastian." Ciel groans. He's rubbing his forehead, one knee drawn up to his chest. His back rests on a pile of pillows, big enough to serve as a throne. "Just bring me a cup."

"Right away." Sebastian replies but his smile is unpolished silver.

He feeds him, bare, crumbs smearing into fine woven cotton. Ciel scowls through most of it, eyes still crusty with sleep. When Sebastian has cleared his tray out of sight onto the tea cart, he excuses himself to prepare the bath.

"Good morning, Mei Rin." Sebastian says smoothly. She answers him through a yawn, her glasses fogged from the steam. Sebastian carries the boiling water upstairs, feet sure on carpeted steps he built himself. Getting the temperature perfectly balanced is a skill he requires for this, but unlike the scones the soothing atmosphere he creates in the bathing room is an art more than a science.

What exact temperature does sugar melt in a pan? What exact temperature will let his master's shoulders to dip, finally settling him into a state of relaxation, free of his dreams and the cold sweat they bring. Until he is peaceful and drifting under Sebastian's hands, his head lolling onto the side of the tub as Sebastian massages his scalp.

No gloves, for this. 

Surely, he can't remember his violin lessons, the shopping trip he'd promised Lizzy and Sohma- not and fall into such a soft state. Sebastian can't wait to watch the glow of his mood slowly erode, worn like a sore tooth as their voices hit the same scratching notes his instrument always brings. 

"Careful…!" Ciel says, sitting up abruptly and swiping at his face. The water splashes around him. "You'll get it in my eye."

His skinny hunched shoulders like a cat in the rain make Sebastian's cheeks heat unexpectedly.

"I apologize, my lord." 

He means it. No reason to cook meat before it's tenderized. 

When he finishes, leaving his master pink and steamed, Ciel clambers out of the tub, leaving wet footprints on clean tile. Sebastian dries him efficiently, clicking his tongue when his master squirms. All the more reason to be rougher, until he's pinked further and all but hissing. 

Still, the comb is next, which his master likes enough to sit sullenly still, his soul an aching mix of contentment and frustration. Hot broth on a cold night, the kind that makes you lick your lip for a hint of the salt…

Now, his canvas prepared. Back to the bedroom, where Sebastian settles him onto his plush, unmade throne and flings open the door to his wardrobe. His pallette, full to the brim with whisps and ruffles of gorgeous color. Deep navy, like his master's eyes under a dark sky, with no light to tease out his lighter facets. Rich forest greens that make him look like a hunter, perched delicately on his horse, princely. Even his formal, black funeral garb, is crisp with finely woven lace, pressed and starched to hang just so before being stored away behind the rest.

For today, Sebastian thinks, he'll choose the deep umber jacket, with the pinned quarter length sleeves, still stitched to hold a cuff link. He likes the peaked shoulders on it, how it's defined edges make his young master look just as prickly as he feels… and the black velvet slashes at his back cinches the look neatly, accentuating his slim waist. He shakes his head briefly…

He's getting ahead of himself. First, he must prime the canvas.

Ciel is quiet as Sebastian slips short pants up his legs, only shifting to allow him easier access. It's helplessly sensual, despite Sebastian's attention to his role, the scent of his soul headier than any perfume. How odd, to find so sexual the covering of his little sex. His tiny master, so full of large complexities.

Socks next, first one and then the other, the fabric woven so thin and fine that it seems to stretch endlessly as Sebastian pulls the finicky things into place over wiggling toes. Eased slowly over each pale foot, edged past the pink swell of his heel. One hand bracing his arch, while the other pulls carefully to keep the seams in place. 

Then the garters, fit for his slim calf, so they don't pull. The buckles are a sweet, fumbling pleasure, his gloves slipping and wrinkling uselessly against the pads of his fingers, numbing him to the sensation of brushing that soft skin.

The thin human veneer they both wear, like cloth over your most private parts. Ciel's tiny caged beauty over his sprawling grandiose soul… Sebastian's thin smile over his monstrous teeth. Keeping them separate as it serves to make them the same… upstairs and downstairs.

Sebastian is in perfect control as he stands, undershirt in hand, bunching the soft fabric to slide over his master's head, his obediently raised arms. The room is almost completely silent now, Mei Rin's off key humming as she drained the tub long gone. Only the early morning wind whipping around the outer walls to hide Ciel's shallow breathing.

The undershirt is a dance, with no music.

One arm, outstretched, and then the other. Then over his head, the soft fabric wrapping clean and white as his neck. This shirt only has buttons to the waist, a style Sebastian finds lazy and Ciel finds practical. He buttons the top button first, intending to cover him more fully, but the shirt gapes at the center, a long slice of his bare skin still revealed.

When Sebastian does the last button, Ciel lets out a breath.

"Stand for me, bocchan?" Sebastian's voice is coaxing and Ciel stands without comment, although the lines of his scowl deepen, slipping off the height of his bed to stand on slippy, socked feet. "Today, I've chosen-"

"Get on with it, Sebastian." Ciel says and maybe it's the just of his chin or the puff of his cheeks. Sebastian's mouth waters. Like the screech of a snapped string, Sebastian's control frays.

It doesn't break.

"Yes, my lord."

Ciel's head tosses, looking away.

Today he's chosen the raw umber jacket and black silk necktie. It matches the detailing on his cuffs and waist. The tan half-pants are slimming under the jacket, cut in the French style which Ciel had conceded to try only after Sebastian had convinced him of their effectiveness in interrogation. It made him look current, instead of childish. Brown leather ankle boots, neatly buckled.

Finally he stands before Sebastian dressed every inch an earl, as Sebastian seals his mark away with a gentle knot behind his head, gloved fingers careful not to catch a single strand of hair in the string.

It's hard to step back… a bow fretting and fretting, high notes.

He does it anyway. Sebastian is a master of nothing if not himself.

"Alright, what's on this light schedule?" Ciel asks and Sebastian lets a small smile slip out, a shadow of his schadenfreude as he answers.

"I'm glad you asked, my lord. Today you have a meeting with your board, but not until after lunch… and after your midmorning fitting with Nina. After lunch the workers need to walk the property so you can make a decision on the fence line. But for now…"

Ciel's eyebrow twitches and Sebastian feels it in the root of his prick. 

"Well, plenty of time for the violin!" He says and oh, how delicious! Sebastian loves this, the slow spoil of his good mood, like spilled ice cream melting on the ground. What gorgeous torment, the delectable rumple of this little soul!

Ciel's eyebrows draw together, and Sebastian eyes him as a smile rises to meet his. 

"Surely with that much time this morning, we could be doing something else." A child, tempting the devil.

"Better to get it out of the way." Sebastian disagrees lightly. "I can't think what could be more pressing."

"As if I could be so lucky." Ciel mutters. "At least I know why you've been so insufferable this morning."

Sebastian's smile is less of a frame and more of a muzzle for his teeth. 

"I'm sure, I don't know what you mean."

Ciel rolls his eyes, expression effortlessly teenage and dismissive and Sebastian stills.

To paint a masterpiece takes patience. A finely crafted soul? A lifetime. It takes time to grow and age… to season and marinate, if you will. Sebastian, having trained as long as he has does fancy himself as something of a chef. He has the timing, the nuance it takes to elevate what he does to an art.

Still, he is not one to dismiss the perverse joy of eating it from the pot with your fingers.

Sebastian can't help but lick his lips, meeting his Master's cool blue stare.

"Do you truly wish to spend your day lazing in bed, my Lord?" His words are as cool as always, but Ciel's smiling like he has all the answers already. Insufferable. Deliciously so. Sebastian is a focused demon, but a conflicted man. "You're overdressed."

"Undress me, then." Ciel says and when Sebastian doesn't move, he crosses his legs, rose coloured mouth tightening. "That's an order, demon."

Sebastian moves with no further hesitation, driving his body into the one before him, piling Ciel into the bed behind him. Thrusting him below his body, his arms forming a soft cage as they're tossed together. Already his young master looks rumpled, his cheeks ablaze, his hair a tousled mess. That pink mouth opens and Sebastian reaches out and rips the bow from around his neck off. Easy, like pulling guts from a fish, Ciel's next order aborted, a gurgling mess in his throat.

Claws shredding his pretty brown jacket and Sebastian rips the tatters from him with quick hands, flinging them carelessly from them as he returns to his prize, so hot and sweet.

Sebastian wants to steal a sip so badly, just a taste of the cream off the top.

Steals a kiss instead and Ciel's teeth are sharp, his tongue as wicked at this as anything he uses it for. His lord has many talents.

Claws ripping the seam of his pants, fingers roaming into the slit of fabric left of his Y seam until he could do the same to his small clothes. Ciel's hands grip his lapels, hanging on desperately as Sebastian wet his fingers lasciviously before sliding them down to where he's already torn the wrapping. His young Master's chest is heaving but when he presses his finger inside slowly it rises once and froze. Ciel, still as in death, holding his breath as Sebastian finally pulls his present open.

"Haaa…" Sebastian curls his finger. _"Ah!"_

His other hand reaches up, carding through disheveled slate locks to ease the patch from his eye. Sebastian loves to watch his mark burn, the way his poor eye watered constantly, making his gaze red and rimmed. Gorgeous.

He's damp, hardly loose but it would do. Ciel certainly doesn't protest the head of his cock, although he does tense. Sebastian pulls back as though to thrust and freezes at the small hand pressing on his stomach.

His skin, this human coat, pricks with impatience.

"Bocchan." Sebastian says politely.

"No violin… for a week." Ciel proposes and Sebastian's smile is only a little fanged in return.

"As you wish." Sebastian says blithely. He knows the worth of a contract.

Plunges forward just to knock his master's smug grin from his lips. His teeth grit as he withdraws, Ciel's body tight enough that the motion is a drag. It has Ciel's breath hitching in his throat, sweating finely at his temples. Sebastian pushes back home and sharp kitten claws find the back of his neck.

True to his nature, the pain is fine praise.

"...deeper." Ciel whispers and Sebastian smiles, reserved and devilish and takes into the boy below him with a rigorousness entirely welcomed, judging by his Master's helpless moans. Each thrust is heated bliss… worth months of violin. Who cares about the friction of a little torment when he can watch Ciel shudder and twist beneath him as blackened nails find the tender pink confectionary of his nipple.

Such blissful torture, his penitent soul writhing so contritely as Sebastian stretches and pounds his master like so much taffy. He's flushed to his belly button, his body shaking with every heaving thrust. With Ciel's head turned and his eyes squeezed closed, Sebastian buries his face in his neck, so close to the thin pump of his lifeblood. It makes him feel beastlike and indelicate, entirely too human.

Truly an extraordinary soul to make him savor even that.

Sebastian, in pursuit of such rarefied beauty, gives in to the animal motion of his hips and the desperate gasping inhalations of his master. His poor, scarred lungs are hardly up to the task, panting and fluttering just inside his chest, a butterfly trapped wetly in its cocoon.

The image is too much and Sebastian grunts sharply as he's betrayed by his too-human body. He jerks weakly as he spends. Head hanging for a moment in the silence of the bedroom.

Ciel looks frankly incredulous when Sebastian raises his gaze. The sight of his mark looking at him so derisively making his soft cock twinge.

Meat straight from the pan, too hot, so it burns your mouth. Spoiling your palette for any other flavors. Sebastian smiles.

Strange. He didn't remember choosing to do that.

"Pathetic." His dinner says and then thumps Sebastian's chest with his fist. He's still smiling. How odd. "Can you truly do nothing-"

"Is that an order?" Sebastian replies, uncorking his sticky prick and Ciel's expression is something to be behold. A masterpiece. Sebastian winces, still smiling, as another fist bounces off of his chest. It makes Ciel's still unspent cock wave imperiously at him.

"I'm never playing another note." Ciel hisses. Sebastian chuckles, regarding him gently.

Flavor is a chef's weapon, double edged when personal preference plays a bigger part than palettes refinement. He loves his master wrapped and bound in irritation, spicy and sour…

He loves his master sweetly, as well.

"You don't have to, my Lord." Sebastian replies gently, swinging the loophole like a noose. "Choose a different instrument… take up painting. It matters little at all."

Ciel stares at him, mouth open in surprise before it snaps shut and he tosses his head again. It only makes his hair worse.

"I'm… I'm not truly- I don't hate the violin."

The love between an artist and their art is better described as obsession. Besotted torture…

Sebastian laughs, the sound pulled out of him and Ciel scowls fiercely, which only makes him laugh more. 

He's still giggling when Ciel sticks his cock down his throat or as far down as the little thing will go.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/soda_coded)


End file.
